The Not So Thin Line Between Love and Hate
by Serendipiti3
Summary: What happens when Harry loves Hermione, Hermione goes to America to pursue her dream, and Draco Malfoy is given another chance? Picks up where HBP left off. DracoHermione pairing. Please R&R!
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own Harry Potter in any shape or form. That's J.K. Rowling's job. MY job is to simply satisfy all the thirsty Draco/Hermione fans out there! xD

**Prologue**

_Turn on channel seven at a quarter to eight  
You see the same damn thing it's just a different day and  
No one really knows why this is happening  
But it's happening  
And everywhere you go it's just a different place  
You get the same dark feeling  
See the same sad faces  
No one really cares that this is happening_

We come into this world  
And we all are the same  
In that moment there's no one to blame

But the world is black  
And hearts are cold  
And there's no hope  
That's what we're told  
And we can't go back  
It won't be the same  
Forever changed  
By the things we've seen, seen

Living in this place it's always been this way  
There's no one doing nothing so there's nothing changed  
And I can't live when this world just keeps dying  
It's dying  
People always tell me this is part of the plan  
That God's got everybody in His hands  
But I can only pray that God is listening  
Is He listening?

We're living in this world  
Growing colder everyday  
Nothing can stay perfect now I see

But the world is black  
And hearts are cold  
And there's no hope  
That's what we're told  
And we can't go back  
It won't be the same  
Forever changed  
By the things we've seen, seen, seen  
We come into this world  
And we all are the same  
And in that moment there's no one to blame  
But we're living in this world  
Growing colder everyday  
Nothing can stay perfect now I see

The world is black  
And hearts are cold  
There's no hope  
That's what we're told  
And we can't go back  
(We can't go back)  
It won't be the same  
(It won't be the same)  
Forever changed  
(What will ever change)  
By the things we've seen, seen, seen

Turn on channel seven at a quarter to eight  
You see the same damn thing it's just a different day  
And no one really knows why this is happening

–**Good Charlotte "The World Is Black"**

**A/N: **So what did you guys think? I know, I know, this only the prologue, blah blah blah. But I just couldn't help putting this song up first! It just introduces everything so nicely, don't you think? Oh, and I don't own Good Charlotte either or any other snippets of the songs you see throughout the story (although, come to think of it, I wouldn't mind owning Joel Madden...) ;D


	2. Chapter One: Voldemort's Proposition

**DISCLAIMER: **Nods Yes, that's right, I am J.K. Rowling and this is my new idea for the seventh Harry Potter book. I just wanted to run it by you guys first. (WARNING: This is a very bad attempt at sarcasm.)

**Chapter One: Voldemort's Proposition**

_This is your life, are you who you want to be?  
This is your life, are you who you want to be?  
This is your life, is it everything you dreamed that it would be  
when the world was younger and you had everything to lose?_

–**Switchfoot "This Is** **Your Life"**

Chills ran down Draco's spine the moment he stepped into the dark, ice-cold chamber. He felt as if he had just taken a midnight swim in the Hogwarts lake in the middle of January. This unnerved him since he knew it was actually summertime outside. Draco shivered slightly under his billowing robes as his eyes took in the bright blue flames and jet-black candles that hovered around the perimeter of the chamber. It was a starkly-decorated, windowless room. The only furniture Draco could see was a regal-looking throne in the center of the room made out of ebony wood and dark green velvet. A thin figure was sitting upon the throne and Draco gulped at the thought of what awaited him. The last time he had been called upon had been almost a year ago.

The dark-robed figure who had been leading him ceased walking abruptly, bowing down at once to the figure upon the throne. Draco, not missing a beat, followed suit and bowed down as well.

"My lord," the hooded man greeted his master. "Draco Malfoy, as you requested." With that, Severus Snape, double agent extraordinaire, stood up from his kneeled position and made his way towards a corner of the chamber. Draco felt oddly uncomfortable kneeling there alone, but he dared not lift his head and look at the figure sitting on the throne.

"Thank you, Severus," the Dark Lord hissed. Draco could hear a rustling of robes as the Dark Lord rose from his throne. Voldemort slowly circled him twice before finally speaking again, "I am sure you are wondering why I have asked for your presence here today, young Malfoy?" Draco was about to answer when Voldemort started to speak again. "It has been a while since we've last spoken."

This time Voldemort paused, clearly waiting for Draco's response. Draco's heartbeat quickened at the mention of his last mission but quickly said, "It has been _too_ long, Master."

"You've failed me the last time, Malfoy," Voldemort sneered nastily. "Stand up, you fool! I'm afraid I have another opportunity for you to redeem yourself, and you better not mess up this time!" Burning in shame at the mention of his first and last blunder, Draco warily stood up, wincing slightly at the cramp in his left leg. He was now facing Voldemort face to face, and Draco couldn't help thinking miserably about how much better it was when he didn't have to face the fright that was Voldemort. Voldemort, however, appeared calm as he returned back to his throne and settled himself upon it once more, his scarlet eyes regarding Draco quietly. Just as Draco was suddenly overcome with the sudden desire to flee the room and never look back, Voldemort began twirling his wand.

That did it. His feet became firmly rooted to the spot.

"Are you ready to hear my proposition, boy?" Voldemort asked, a hint of amusement apparent in his voice. Draco was scared and anxious to his very core but nodded nonetheless. He was curious this morning when Snape had summoned him and he was still just as curious now. On the other hand, he had been steeling himself for the worse, sure that Voldemort would have punished him for his last blunder. It was only a matter of time. "But before we get to that, we must discuss Hogwart's oh-so-tragic loss. After all... you were there." Voldemort was watching him intently, waiting for what he had to say. Draco shifted uneasily. Voldemort was speaking about Albus Dumbledore's murder. He dropped his head down in shame. He almost screwed up the whole mission if it weren't for Snape.

"Yes, my Lord," murmured Draco softly, remembering his cowardly display almost a year ago. He had been hesitant and afraid. A first timer's mistake. However, Voldemort did not appear raged but instead entirely calm as Draco carefully observed him.

"Well, now that we've got one fool out of the way, it is time to eliminate the other."

Draco did not expect that. He had expected a harsh punishment involving the Cruciatus Curse. Or worse...

"What exactly...do you have in mind, my lord?" Voldemort's eyes grew livid with rage as Draco watched silently in horror. He quickly said, "That is, if I may ask, Master."

Has he finally said something that angered the powerful dark wizard, just when it seemed like he was off the hook? Draco knew perfectly well that Voldemort could turn him into chopped liver if he wanted to with just one, lazy flick of his wand. However, the anger quickly subsided and he merely said, "Do not question me, Draco. You are only to do what I say," he warned dangerously, stroking his wand.

"Yes, Master. It won't happen again," Draco promptly answered, bowing his head. He certainly did not want to cross Voldemort once more. His life was on the line.

"Now, I am sure you have guessed that it is high time for me to finish off Harry Potter?" he paused. "And I suppose you also know about Potter's little Mudblood girlfriend?"

Draco was a bit shocked. He had expected that Voldemort would be keen to get rid of Potter next, but what did Granger have to do with it?

Voldemort noticed the shocked look on Draco's face and smirked, "From the looks of it, I gather that you do. And I'm sure you've heard about their far-from-discreet love life?" Voldemort had asked that so casually that it disturbed Draco a bit. But this time he was not floored by the question. Using his own sources, he knew that Potter, Weasley, and Granger had disappeared all of a sudden the moment Hogwarts had reopened, shortly after Dumbledore died. He himself had not returned but had retreated into Malfoy Manor, an outcast in the wizarding world. For the past year, there had been rumors and sightings about the Golden Trio, trekking all over the world, obviously on some important mission. Of course, Voldemort tried to put a stop to it but the Death Eaters have failed to stop them every single time.

Then, if he remembered correctly, just a few months ago _Witch Weekly _and _The Daily Prophet_ have had a field day acknowledging Harry Potter's "secret" relationship with Hermione Granger, one of his loyal best friends. According to the media, it was during one of the Golden Trio's jaunts around the world that he pledged his undying love to Granger, so to speak. They were keeping their relationship under wraps for now, but there were wild rumors about an engagement that was soon about to take place.

When Draco finally answered Voldemort, he spoke in his most sincere tone, "Yes I did, my Lord." At his confirmation, an eery smirk appeared on Voldemort's pallid features.

His ruby-red eyes glimmered with excitement as he said, "Very well then, Draco. We have just one more thing to attend to before I give you your instructions..."

Before Draco could even say "Cruciatus", Voldemort had pointed his wand at him in a flash and cried out, "_Crucio!_" Caught completely by surprise, he fell to his knees and doubled over in pain as the tormenting feeling coursed through his body. He felt as if his intestines have been ripped inside out and his blood literally boiling...

Voldemort watched with apparent boredom and kept it at for a few more minutes until he finally stopped. Shaking and weak, Draco remained curled up on the floor.

When he was finally able to lift his head with difficulty, Voldemort looked at him with disgust and sneered menacingly, "You didn't think I would have easily forgiven you for your last mistake, did you?"

00000

Draco steadied himself automatically as the portkey dropped from his hand. Still weak and slightly dazed from the previous torture, he slumped back onto his canopy bed and closed his eyes.

What Voldemort had told him afterwards repeated itself clearly in his head. _I want you to bring the girl to me...or else, _Voldemort's sinister voice had commanded him. Draco recalled his initial fear at Voldemort's words. He knew what the Dark Lord had meant when he said "or else." He knew that Voldemort would not hesitate to kill Lucius, Narcissa, and himself all in one go if he had not agreed to the plan.

Draco sighed and curled his hands into fists. Then again, he desperately wanted another chance to prove himself. He had definitely grown up in the course of a year. Gone was the stuck-up little rich boy he once was. This time around he would be damned if he messed up again. Never again would he hesitate in murder and soiling the Malfoy name any further.

"Draco?"

He opened his eyes quickly and sat up. Narcissa Malfoy's slim figure was framed in his bedroom doorway, one hand on the doorknob. At the sight of the lines under his mother's eyes and her slightly hollowed cheeks, Draco felt a pang deep inside him. His aristocratic mother was not meant to live this way; terrified in every waking moment and shunned by the rest of the world.

Narcissa, oblivious to her son's stare, entered his vast room and sat down next to Draco on his bed. She wrung her pale hands nervously as she asked softly, "What did he want this time?" She was, of course, referring to the Dark Lord's summon. Her gaze was fixed solely on the rich-green carpeting and she tensed up as if fearing Draco's answer.

"He just wants me to do another...favor for him. It's nothing I can't handle," he said at last, patting his mother's back awkwardly. Once she registered his words, Narcissa tore her eyes from the floor and instantly searched Draco's immediately.

"You've got to be joking," she breathed out, her face turning as white as a sheet. "He wants you to go on ANOTHER life-threatening mission!" Narcissa had leapt from the bed in rage and fear, pacing madly around the confines of the room. "No, no, no, no, _no_," she muttered feverishly under her breath. "Not _again_."

Draco, alarmed, stood up and wrapped his arms around his mother to calm her down. He winced as he realized just how skinny she had become. Narcissa sobbed into his shoulder, her bony shoulders trembling uncontrollably.

"No!" she yelled against his shirt. "I won't let you go! I've lost Lucius and I've almost lost you once! I won't risk losing you again!" His mother was near hysterics and Draco did not know what to do so he feebly patted her back again wordlessly. All of a sudden, Narcissa broke away, "I'm going to talk to him! I'll plead if I have to–"

Her heated words were cut short by Draco's, "NO! You are not going to him for my sake!" He seemed to have finally found his voice again as he gripped his mother's shoulders with both hands. Narcissa, still sobbing, struggled against his grip. "The Dark Lord cannot be bargained with, Mother! He'll kill you! And I can handle it this time. I'm ready! If doing this will mean saving you, Father, and myself, I'll have no choice but to go! Do you understand me?"

Gray eyes pierced upon gray as he looked down at Narcissa, wordlessly willing her to understand. After a while he knew that his mother had no choice but to accept his decision.

Trembling in grief, Narcissa buried her face in her hands and fled the room without another word. It hurt him to have caused his mother so much pain, but deep down inside he knew what he must do.

Locking his jaw determinedly, he knew that he must do Voldemort's bidding, whether he liked it or not.

**A/N: **Okay okay! NOW what do you think? This is my first story so please cut me some slack! . Although, constructive criticism and comments are always welcome! So, please press that little button down there that says "Submit Review" and... YOU'LL GET A COOKIE! That's right! So go on, go on... I won't keep you with this pointless author's note! (Oh, and by the way, I will post Chapter 2 once I get at least FIVE reviews. Reviews are really important for me since I learn from them and grow as a writer! Much appreciated!)


	3. Chapter Two: The Wedding

**DISCLAIMER: **I am not J.K. Rowling and sadly I do not own Harry Potter and others. I'm just a 15-year-old girl who's got a lot of time on her hands. (lol)

**Chapter Two: The Wedding**

_Goodbye to you  
Goodbye to everything I thought I knew  
You were the one I loved  
The one thing that I tried to hold on to  
_**–Michelle Branch "Goodbye To You"**

Hermione read and reread the piece of parchment in her hands. '_Congratulations! You have been accepted into the New York Medical Program for Healer Scholars (N.Y.M.P.H.S.)!' _The words swirled around and around in Hermione's head. After three days, she was still not fully used to the idea. Well, at least she wasn't caught off guard this time around. She had already accomplished that by shrieking in surprise when she had received the letter halfway up a steep mountain in the Himalayas, almost resulting in her toppling out of sight.

Hermione silently shrunk the letter into the size of a tiny postage-stamp and tucked it into the fake Horcrux locket that she wore around her neck. Harry had given it to her the very first time he had told her he loved her. Hermione gulped nervously. She was planning on showing the letter to Harry tonight.

Harry, Ron, and herself were back in the country– at the Burrow, to be precise. They had arrived the previous night, tired and hungry but immensely pleased, for Tonks and Lupin's wedding. All three had been immensely lucky in their timing since they had just destroyed the last Horcrux, the embellished medallion of Rowena Ravenclaw, deep in the Himalayan mountains just a couple of days ago. It was also the last Horcrux which meant that their year-long search was coming to an end. Harry would soon have to confront Voldemort face-to-face.

Hermione was secretly disappointed that their search was over. Although this meant that Voldemort would no longer be able to exist if successfully killed, she was dreadfully worried for what was to come. When she had voiced her worry to Harry, he had reassured her that this was what he wanted to do even if he hadn't heard the prophecy. To Harry, facing Voldemort one-on-one was like getting the grand prize after all his hard work.

"Hermione?" She had been gazing absentmindedly out the window at the Weasley's backyard where Crookshanks could be seen chasing after a particularly skittish gnome.

"Oh, Ron, it's just you." She grinned, taking in Ron's vivid red hair and recently-acquired tan.

He whistled as his indigo eyes studied Hermione closely. "You look really great, 'Mione," he commented, grinning from ear to ear. Hermione merely blushed and smoothed the front of her dress nervously. She was wearing a strapless dress of the palest blue that hugged her curves nicely. Half of her hair, which has tamed drastically since last year, was put up while the rest hung down her back in luxurious waves. And of course, the finishing touch was Harry's necklace, which adorned her tanned neck beautifully.

"You don't look so bad yourself, _Ronald_," she replied, laughing at the disgusted expression that crossed his freckled face. It was her revenge to Ron for calling her 'Mione.

"Ack, don't call me that!" Ron groaned, offering his arm out to her. "I hate the name '_Ronald_.'"

Accepting Ron's offered arm, they both descended down the staircase together. Although they seemed to be getting along on good terms, Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit awkward and awfully guilty when she was around Ron. After all, they had somewhat maintained a serious relationship for six months. That is, until five months ago when Hermione had to tell Ron that they might as well give up, because it was just not going to work out. The problem was that they were simply _too_ different, and their difference had caused in many vicious bickering over completely idiotic things. Ron had ruefully agreed and ever since then, they've been "just friends".

As for Hermione feeling extremely guilty, it was because she had gotten together with Harry three weeks after she called it off with Ron. As if their break-up wasn't bad enough to shake up Ron's ego pretty badly, she had literally shattered it to pieces by keeping her budding romance with Harry a secret for two weeks. Poor Ron almost had a heart attack when he walked in on them snogging in a tent.

Yes, she was definitely ashamed of herself when it comes to Ron.

And then today she would be facing Ginny after almost a year. For a while, Harry and herself have kept their romantic relationship a secret from Ginny, too. Although technically there was no problem since Harry and Ginny were _technically_ broken up, Hermione still felt terribly ashamed for "betraying" her friendship with Ginny for some guy. (Granted, Harry Potter was a LOT more than just _some_ guy). And then when Ron had found out about the two of them, he had insisted that they tell Ginny as well. Hermione recalled Ron's angry face as he rambled on and on about how Ginny deserved to know what goes on inside dark tents in the middle of South America. And so it was that the morning after Ron's discovery, a very guilty Harry and Hermione had sent a letter to Ginny via Hedwig and awaited her reply.

Funnily enough, Ginny had not responded.

Which is the reason why Hermione _definitely_ dreaded seeing Ginny today.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

(CRASH)

Hermione could literally see tiny, flapping books circling her head...

Her obsessive worrying was momentarily interrupted by a very frantic Fleur who knocked all the wind out of her once she entered the Weasleys' kitchen. She landed with Fleur in a heap on the kitchen floor, thoroughly disoriented. As if the throbbing pain in her head wasn't enough, both her and Fleur were covered from head to toe in gravy. Mrs. Weasley, noticing the commotion, hurried quickly to them.

Fleur got up first and apologized over and over again to the shocked brown-haired girl covered in gravy that was still splayed on the floor, "Oh, I am sorry, 'Ermionee!"

"Here, dear," Mrs. Weasley extended a hand out to Hermione and hoisted her up to a standing position. Ron, looking very surprised yet amused, began suctioning off the gravy off of Hermione with a muttered "_Tergeo!_" Mrs. Weasley, equally trying to repair the mess that was Fleur, began cleaning her up, too.

In all the commotion, none of them noticed Harry who was walking into the room, walking right smack-dab into...

"ARGH!" Harry yelled as he slipped on the abandoned puddle of gravy and collided with the china cabinet a couple of yards away. The ancient cabinet swayed dangerously before three plates fell out and hit him square on the head one after the other.

Mrs. Weasley clapped a hand to her mouth and hurried to his side with Fleur in tow.

"Oh, no, 'Arry! I am _so _sorry!" she shrieked, wringing her hands helplessly. Harry blinked a couple of times, looked around, and finally seemed to register what just happened. Instead of being angry, however, his lips twitched involuntarily into a smile.

"It's alright, Fleur. I'm okay," he reassured the trembling blonde girl, wiping tears of mirth from his vibrant green eyes. Mrs. Weasley fussed over him first before repairing the broken china and muttering "_scourgify!_" at the puddle of gravy that Harry had stepped on. Fleur, still blushing furiously, began busying herself with the utensils, obviously embarrassed by the chain of commotion she'd made.

After Ron was finished with her, Hermione was just about to rush to Harry's side to see if he was alright when a familiar voice drifted from the doorway, "What is going on in here!" Hermione stopped dead in her tracks and turned around gingerly to face a very amused-looking Ginny Weasley framed in the kitchen doorway. However, at the sight of Harry and Hermione, her smile quickly fell.

Hermione forced a huge grin on her face and made to embrace Ginny when the latter backed away quickly, as if she did not want to catch whatever disease Hermione carried. Suddenly, everybody in the kitchen was staring at the drama unfolding between the two girls. The tension was so thick in the room Hermione swore she could cut through it with a kitchen knife.

The younger, redhead spoke up first, her voice slightly trembling, "I–I thought you guys were still abroad..." Hermione opened her mouth to reply but Harry, who was approaching them cautiously, spoke up first.

"We were, but we made it back in time for the wedding," he said in a rush, approaching the two girls warily. Ron, Fleur, and Mrs. Weasley were still staring at them, apparently not even trying to pretend they weren't eavesdropping.

Hermione noticed this and whispered so that only Harry and Ginny would be able to hear, "Let's talk about this somewhere else, okay?" Her eyes were fixed on Ginny and she was pleased to see the younger girl nodding reluctantly.

"We can go up to my room," Ginny said softly, turning around and going back up the stairs. Harry took Hermione's hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly before both of them followed Ginny upstairs.

"What was zat all about?" Fleur asked to nobody in particular as all three of them stared at the trio's retreating backs.

00000

Once the door slammed shut, silence fell heavily upon all three. Ginny was now perched on her bed, examining her hands as if they were the most fascinating objects in the world. Harry, too, was shuffling his feet and staring at the ground furiously as if willing it to open up and swallow him up. Hermione simply looked perplexed.

After a few more minutes of uneasy silence, Ginny broke it by saying, "I'm not mad, you know." She looked up and glanced back and forth between Harry and Hermione. "I didn't write back because I–I just needed some time to get used to the idea." Harry and Hermione, who had been expecting a dramatic outburstfrom Ginny, merely stood there in shock.

Ginny, frowning, misinterpreted their silence and said, "I'm sorry I was acting like such a prat in the kitchen. I was just caught off guard, I guess." She was now looking pointedly at Hermione, seeming to plead with her eyes.

But at the word "sorry," Hermione immediately went to Ginny's side and hugged the younger girl, "No! You have nothing to be sorry about! It's us who should be apologizing, Gin."

After a furtive glance from Hermione, Harry added nervously, "Err... yea, Ginny. _We're_ extremely sorry. We didn't mean for it to happen..." At Harry's perplexed expression, Ginny giggled meekly.

"We can't all choose what's going to happen," she said, more to herself than to Harry and Hermione. "Much less predict the future."

Hermione, teary-eyed, replied, "Oh, I'm so glad you understand! I would never have forgiven myself if you didn't!" Both girls hugged again while Harry looked uncomfortable.

"So, does this mean we have your blessing?" he asked carefully, approaching both girls tentatively. Ginny simply laughed as she stood up and hugged Harry, too.

"Of course."

00000

A few minutes later, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny went downstairs just as the wedding was about to start. They met up with Ron in the now-empty kitchen before making their way up the hill towards the Weasleys' old paddock. It was surrounded by trees which made it perfect for Quidditch games or, in this case, weddings.

At the sight of the paddock, Hermione gasped.

Gone was the old rickety fence that bordered the enclosure (and the slight horse smell, Hermione was glad to note). Instead the trees crisscrossed overhead, blocking off the blazing sunlight and providing a dappled shade for everyone. Rows and rows of neat white wooden chairs faced a charming white gazebo. Gold ribbons were wound around each of the gazebo's posts, giving off an elegant feel. And the loveliest part was the inch-thick layer of golden-yellow marigolds that led up to the gazebo steps.

In all its simplicity, it was extremely romantic.

The four of them were the last to arrive. Everyone else were already seated and chattering amiably amongst themselves. As they slipped into the last row, Hermione quickly spotted a very nervous-looking Lupin standing on the steps of the gazebo with Mad-Eye Moody presiding over the ceremony. She scanned the rows and saw that everyone was indeed here– from Mrs. Weasley to Dobby the house-elf, who had toppled out of sight in glee at the sight of Harry.

Hermione was just about to point out Dobby to an oblivious Harry when the gentle sound of enchanted harps and flutes filled with the air. All at once, the congregation stood up and faced the back of the enclosure at the two advancing figures climbing up the hill. A few seconds later, Hermione gasped once more, as did many others, when a beaming, drop-dead-gorgeous Tonks came into view led by Mr. Weasley. One could hardly recognize Tonks at all for she had traded in her usual outrageous hair styles for loose, wavy, reddish-blond locks that cascaded down her waist. She was not wearing a veil but instead there was a simple circlet of intertwining marigolds upon her head. But the most jaw-dropping part was the dress. It wasn't like it was embellished with jewels or pearls or whatnot. It was actually quite simple with a tight upper bodice that eventually flares out just below the waist into a full, billowing skirt.Yet it suited Tonks nicely and the effect was, to say the least, astonishing.

The actual ceremony was awfully sentimental, in Hermione's opinion. She was so touched that halfway through the ceremony, Harry had to lend her his handkerchief, so she would be able to sob silently into it. By the time it was finished, Harry's handkerchief had turned into a great, big, soggy mess. Not that Harry minded, of course. The Boy Who Lived was just not the type to be disgusted by a small, petty thing like a soggy handkerchief.

When they were traipsing back to the Burrow so Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Moody, Lupin, and Bill would be able to transform the ceremony site into a reception area, Hermione, still sniffling, disappeared with Ginny in search of Tonks to voice their congratulations.

"More like _sob_ their congratulations," Ron muttered under his breath as the girls fled up the stairs. Harry laughed good-naturedly and retrieved two glasses of champagne for Ron and himself.

"Cheers," he toasted, relishing the cool, bubbly feeling coursing down his throat. The two boys retreated to the Weasleys' living room where many others have assembled and chose two armchairs tucked away in a corner. At first, they talked about Quidditch (as usual) and discussed the scores of the last Chudley Cannons match. Once there was a lull in the conversation, Ron suddenly looked dead serious as he leaned towards Harry, champagne in hand.

"So when are you going to do it, mate?" he asked, dropping his voice so others wouldn't be able to overhear. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his ever-messy hair.

He looked down and slowly twirled his empty glass with both hands, "I don't know yet. Soon, I suppose. When the right time comes..."

Ron pressed on, "You've _got_ it, then?"

Harry nodded, "Yup. Ordered it at Diagon Alley when I came back last night. It arrived this morning." Ron slumped back in his chair, shocked beyond belief. Harry looked down, pointedly avoiding Ron's gaze. It was odd to be discussing this with Ron.

"And you're sure about this, now?" Ron asked again, looking at Harry carefully.

Harry looked up and faced Ron dead-on, "Positive." Ron seemed satisfied with this answer and continued to look at Harry withquietastonishmentuntil Ginny and Hermione appeared suddenly, bounding towards them.

So it was that Harry let himself be guided by a very cheery Hermione into the newly-transformed reception area, one hand in his left pocket stroking a certain square, velvet object.

00000

"–and so I whispered to George, 'Well, if that isn't a yellow, furry gorilla, I don't know what is!'" The round table at the far end roared in laughter as Fred finished his account of their last encounter with an unfortunate Vincent Crabbe at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. (Fred had offered Crabbe a "complimentary" Canary Cream that ended with rather odd results). Harry and Ron laughed uproariously, clutching the sides of their stomachs as George provided a very accurate portrayal of a very confused Crabbe, scratching at his armpits in a gorilla-like manner. Hermione and Ginny did not laugh along with the others but looked like they were trying very hard not to.

They were seated at one of the sturdy, round tables that Mr. Weasley and Bill had conjured up all around a polished, wooden dance floor. Each table, set for six, was laden with all kinds of food prepared by none other than Mrs. Weasley with assistance by Fleur and some of the Hogwarts' house-elves, including Dobby. There were real-live fairies hovering in the trees giving off an ethereal glow, which added all the more to the romantic mood (to the girls' excitement and the boys' exasperation).

Feeling incredibly full from the delectable main course, Hermione was content in polishing off a tiny sliver of apple pie, while Harry, Ron, and the twins scarfed down treacle tarts, apple pie, and heaping mounds of pudding. Once the boys have polished off the desserts, a satisfied lull seized their table as the boys leaned back in their chairs and patted their stomachs.

Almost as if on cue, the fairies zoomed to the middle of the dance floor, forming one great, glowing ball just as a rather catchy dance tune appeared out of nowhere. They flashed different colored lights every two seconds in time to the music. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George sat there, dumbstruck, at the shocking change of atmosphere.

"Well, come on! Get up, you lazy oafs!" Mad-Eye Moody roared as he pulled a shocked Professor McGonagall to her feet and escorted her to the dance floor. Laughter ensued from all the tables as Moody led Professor McGonagall into what was unmistakably the boogie. Pretty soon, Lupin and Tonks, the newlyweds, were dancing to the upbeat tune as well and couples popped up all around to dance until Harry and Hermione were the only ones left sitting at their table. (Ron was dancing with Ginny, and Fred and George were doing the Chicken on the middle of the dance floor.)

To Hermione's surprise, Harry stood up, grinned, and extended his arm out to her, "Shall we?" The last time she checked, Harry had two left feet and was determined not to display them in front of a crowd.

"We shall," Hermione responded with a smile as the two of them joined the crowd on the dance floor. They danced through three fast songs (Harry stepped on her feet approximately a hundred times) before a slow song began playing. Hermione wasn't familiar with it, but she let the words and the melody wash over her as she closed her eyes and rocked back and forth in Harry's arms.

Most of the non-couples have left the floor, Ginny and Ron included. They watched in silence as the couples locked in each other's embrace, looking perfectly content and in love. Both Ginny and Ron, however, were only looking at _one_ particular couple.

"They seem perfect for each other, don't they?" Ginny whispered to Ron softly, a bittersweet smile gracing her pretty features.

Ron nodded, "Yup, like pieces of a puzzle." He gave Ginny a sidelong glance. "Are _you_ okay, though?" Ginny caught Ron's worried expression and laughed good-naturedly.

"I suppose Iam okay," she said after a moment, watching Harry and Hermione silently.

Meanwhile, on the dance floor, Harry leaned into Hermione's ear and whispered, "Have I told you how nice you look tonight?"

Her cheeks grew slightly warm as she murmured back, "Like a hundred times." Harry laughed as he tightened his grip around Hermione's waist. "You look quite spiffy yourself, mister."

Harry adopted a pompous look. "Why, thank you, madam." Now it was Hermione's turn to laugh as Harry absentmindedly played with the locket around her neck. "I'm glad I gave this to you. It suits you very well."

At Harry's words, Hermione's mind suddenly snapped back to the letter tucked inside the locket. She had completely forgotten about it. The happy, bubbly feeling left her stomach only to be replaced by a heavy numbness.

She took a deep breath before tapping Harry on the shoulder.

"Hmm?" Harry loosened his grip on her and stared at her questioningly. "What is it?"

Hermione wordlessly led Harry off to the far end of the dance floor where the trees were densest. A particularly huge tree blocked them off from the rest of the party.

"I need to tell you something," she said nervously, taking a seat on the grass. It didn't matter if her dress was going to be ruined; she needed to be seated for this. Hermione patted the ground next to her, motioning Harry to sit down, too. Harry, puzzled, sat obligingly, looking at his girlfriend with concern.

"Is everything okay?" He put a comforting hand on her shoulder; those green eyes boring into her mind. Averting Harry's gaze, Hermione unclasped the locket and took out the tiny letter, restoring it back to its normal size. Harry's eyes widened as the letters 'N.Y.M.P.H.S.' glared up at him from the heading. As his eyes swept down the page and grew larger with each line, Hermione twiddled her thumbs anxiously, overcome with nerves.

It was all up to Harry now...

He finished, clutching the letter loosely in his hand, and said slowly, "You...applied for a Healer school in America?" Hermione nodded, waiting for the blow...

Harry turned to face her, looking shocked and completely at a loss for words. "Wh-when did you apply for this?"

"In our sixth year," Hermione barely whispered, her honey-colored eyes downcast.

"Does Ron know about this?" Harry asked. Hermione shook her head. "Does anyone other than us know about this?" She shook her head again. Harry sighed and ran a shaky hand through his jet-black hair. Hermione gulped. She knew Harry only does that when he's frustrated. Or angry.

After a minute or two, Harry finally spoke again. "Do you–" he cleared his throat. "Do you _want_ to go?" Hermione, who had been bracing for an outburst of some kind, was a bit taken aback by Harry's calm inquiries. She was grateful for that. Hermione couldn't help thinking that if Harry was Ron, he would have been yelling along the lines of _what-were-you-thinking_ right about now.

She paused before saying, "I-I suppose I do want to go. It _is_ a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." She looked down, blushed, and said in a small voice, "And I _do _want to be a Healer someday... Once all of this is over..."

A minute passed...

Two minutes...

Then Harry merely nodded and placed the letter back in her hands.

"Well, I guess that means you're going then," he said softly, a pained smile on his face. Hermione froze, staring into Harry's hypnotic green eyes. Did he just say–?

"You–you're not mad?" she asked nervously, gripping the letter in her hands. Now it was Harry's turn to look shocked.

"_Mad_?" he asked, confused. "Why would I be mad? A little disappointed, maybe. Sad, definitely. But why would I be mad?" Hermione laughed gratefully, tackling Harry into a hug. He wasn't angry with her for wanting to leave. He wasn't angry!

As they held each other, Hermione mumbled softly in his ear, "I wish I wouldn't have to leave you, Harry. It doesn't feel right for me to be leaving at a moment like this..."

Harry paused before asking quietly, "At a moment like this?" He pulled away slowly to look into Hermione's brown eyes, looking absolutely puzzled. Hermione lowered her gaze silently. Finally, it dawned on him.

He tilted her chin up and spoke to her in a hushed tone, "Hermione, you know I'll have to battle Voldemort sooner or later. _Alone_. I would rather you take this opportunity and go, instead of feeling like you're obliged to stay here." When Hermione didn't say anything, he continued, "I'll still be here when you come back, Hermione. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be _fine_." At this, Hermione raised her eyes and sobbed into Harry's shoulder. He tried to sound so sure and calm when he said that, but underneath his certainty, Hermione was able to detect something else: doubt.

"You promise you'll contact me once something happens?" she asked tentatively.

Harry gulped before answering, "Of course." However, behind Hermione's back, he had his fingers crossed...

"I love you," she murmured into his ear, squeezing his shoulders tighterabsentmindedly.

Harry didn't hesitate a bit as he muttered back, "I love you, too."

They remained that way for a couple more minutes, enjoying each other's warmth and comfort, with Harry stroking Hermione's wavy locks soothingly. Once they stood up and dusted themselves off, Harry couldn't help but ask, struggling to sound casual, "So how long will you be gone?"

Hermione cleared her throat sadly before whispering, "It's a six-month curriculum."

"Oh..." Harry replied, a tone of disappointment apparent in his voice. Hermione noticed that he was edging something lower in his left pocket.

"Well, I guess now it's time to tell the others," Harry said a little too heartily, offering Hermione his arm. She accepted it gratefully, feeling both remorsefulyet excited at what the future held for her.

**A/N: **So what did you think of Chapter 2? I hope you guys enjoyed it more than I did writing it. It took meFOREVER to get it just right! ( '')It's certainly more fluffy than the first chapter, though. I'm not that thrilled about it, to tell you the truth. It just seems so draggy in the beginning... But I had to do it, for Hermione, Harry, and Ron's sake. (You're not going to see Harry, Ron, and the others for a while.) Oh, and did you guys manage to guess what Harry has hiding in his pocket? I hope I was being obvious about that one!

On a lighter note, THANK YOU SO MUCH for all of you that reviewed! (Hands out cookies for everyone!) Especially JTfanaddict for the nice, long review and for being my VERY FIRST REVIEWER! Yay! (Throws confetti!) The next treat I'm planning to hand out are BROWNIES! So please hurry and review this lickety-split! xD


	4. Chapter Three: A Heated Confrontation

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own ANY of the Harry Potter characters. (Although I do wish every Christmas for Draco Malfoy, but it seems like Santa's been slacking off.)

**Chapter Three: A Heated Confrontation**

_I feel like, I would like_

_To be somewhere else doing something that matters_

_And I'll admit here, while I sit here_

_My mind wastes away and my doubts start to gather_

– **Relient K "More Than Useless"**

Draco glanced around the room warily, clenching the battered piece of parchment in his hand. He has never even heard of this so-called, top-notch Healer school. And now here he was. In America. Supposedly becoming a qualified Healer himself.

The room was very simply furnished in shades of dark-blue, black, and white– very masculine colors. There was a four-poster bed made upof navy bedcovers to his left and a magnificent bay window, complete with a window-seat, directly on the wall opposite the door. Carefully, he set his trunk down on the foot of the four-poster and strolled to the window itself to examine the view. The hustle and bustle of muggle New York City greeted his cold, stormy eyes.

"Merlin, please tell me I'm dreaming," he mumbled to himself, pressing his forehead against the window pane. Indeed, he felt very worn out and disoriented as if a Bludger had just knocked him off his broom. A strong feeling like he was drifting in between dreaming and reality lingered with him. The past couple of hours seemed very surreal to him now. Saying good-bye to his mother... packing his things... arriving by Portkey... "Ah, the joys of using a long-distance Portkey," he muttered darkly, feeling slightly woozy ever since he arrived. And now that he was actually here, this whole kidnapping-Granger thing was starting to worry him little by little.

He had absolutely no clue _how_ he would abduct Granger and serve her to Voldemort on a silver platter. How was he, Draco, supposed to just approach Granger without being hexed to oblivion, especially after what happened last year? And if he should try to catch her unawares, he would probably end up being hexed in the end anyway! She wasn't the brightest witch Hogwarts in their year for nothing. Not to mention all those dangerous stunts she pulled with Potty Head and the Weasel. How was Draco supposed to beat that?

The _one_ time he ever pulled a dangerous stunt, he ended up being branded a coward, mocked by his Death Eater mentors, and living as an outcast. And now this! At first, he had thought the mission would be terribly easy and that it would be the perfect chance to redeem himself in front of the ultimate Dark Lord. But as the days passed by and the arrangements were made, Draco felt less and less sure of himself as his confidence slowly ebbed away. He would not be able to face the shame and humiliation if he failed Voldemort a _second_ time. And this time, he thought with horror, there would be no one here to help him.

He was utterly and completely alone.

00000

Hermione was lost.

She checked the letter again and automatically her brows furrowed together. The letter had specifically stated that her room should be on the fifth floor, in the East Wing, third door from the right. But from some reason the corridor she was in only had two doors on the right. Obviously, she had taken a wrong turn somewhere.

Sighing, Hermione walked back down the dim hallway and sat on the topmost step of a rickety, wooden staircase. It was quite different from the two curved, marble staircases in the Grand Foyer that had branched off in opposite directions. And while the corridor up here was extremely dim and narrow, the Grand Foyer downstairs was brightly lit and welcoming.

This place was starting to confuse her.

Hermione rested her head in her hands, desperate for a moment to think. She had to retrace her steps if she was going to find her room. Let's see, first, she had arrived by Portkey into one of the many Portkey stations lined up against the wall in the underground cellar. Then she had clambered up the stairs that led into the Grand Foyer along with the other incoming students to locate her room. She had marveled a bit at the moving galaxy depicted on the Grand Foyer's domed ceiling and the gilded portraits of famous American healers that ran all around the circular foyer. In her awe, she remembered being jostled by a particularly rambunctious group onto the moving staircase on the left, believing it to be the East Wing...

Hermione smacked herself hard on the head.

Of course! She was in the completely wrong wing! Instead of going right like she should have, she had wandered off into the West Wing by mistake! She couldn't believe her silly mistake. '_Must have been from that woozy Portkey trip,' _she assured herself, getting up from her seated position and dusting off her robes.

Now that she knew exactly where to go, Hermione rushed through the series of corridors branching out left and right, bursting with the thought of finally finding her room. It actually never occurred to her that the N.Y.M.P.H.S. building would be so big. Or that so many people had signed up for their medical program and got in. But Hermione herself was only a scholarship student, so she guessed that some people had just paid the tuition to attend.

Still, she never imagined it to be this humongous...

Suddenly, something solid knocked into her as she veered right in a particularly narrow corridor. The force of the impact was so unexpected that Hermione was literally thrown across the floor and landed with a thud a few feet away. Groaning, she tried to push herself off the ground.

"Watch where you're going next time!" a male voice barked at her, sounding particularly nasty and mean-spirited. Hermione could have sworn she heard that exact tone of voice somewhere...

As she propped herself on her elbows and struggled to get up, she had to brush away the wavy locks that fell into her face, hiding her from view. She never did get to properly apologize, though, since she fell into a state of shock a few seconds later. That pale blond hair... those icy gray eyes... that unbelievably infuriating smirk...

She gasped, "YOU!"

00000

"YOU!" Draco watched in disbelief as Hermione Granger stood stock-still in front of him, her mouth forming a perfectly round "O." What a bloody coincidence! Hmm...if only he could stupefy or petrify her right this moment and get it all over with... He began to reach inside his pocket for his wand.

However, Granger got to her wand first. What a surprise.

She pointed it straight at his heart and shrieked loudly, her face turning as red as a ripe tomato, "MALFOY! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE! HAVE YOU COME TO FINISH OFF THE MUGGLEBORNS **HERE** ON VOLDEMORT'S ORDERS NOW, YOU BLOODY DEATH EATER?" He narrowed his eyes at the enraged girl in front of him as her yelling echoed down the hallway... Sure enough, people began poking their heads out, wondering who had caused such a ruckus and why. Granger, however, was not paying them any attention.

Oh, how lucky for him.

Quite suddenly, all thoughts of petrifying Granger flew out the window as he attempted to get her to calm down through clenched teeth. If Granger was going to hex him, he would prefer it not to be done in front of an audience, thank you. "You don't understand. Can we not talk here right–"

"OH, DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME **I** DON'T UNDERSTAND, MALFOY, YOU HORRIBLE, EVIL, **GIT**!" she spat, brandishing her wand like a sword. More people started to appear, apparently hungry for some juicy drama. His patience was wearing thin...

"Granger, you're acting totally irrational–"

"OF COURSE I'M BEING IRRATIONAL, YOU PRAT! AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO US! AFTER WHAT YOU DID TO **DUMBLEDORE**!"

'_Keep calm, Draco,' _he told himself quietly, taking deep, calming breaths. '_Keep calm... Don't lose your cool... Think of the Dalai Lama... Granger is probably mentally ill from hanging around with Potty Head and Carrot Top so much... Do not blow up at a mentally ill person... Dalai Lama, Dalai Lama, Dalai Lama...'_

"Fine. But can't we just–"

"FINE! WHAT DO YOU MEAN **_FI_**–"

"WOULD YOU LET ME FINISH?" Draco bellowed, now aiming his wand at Granger's bristling form as well. Screw the Dalai Lama, he was pissed. When she actually did shut up, he was quite taken aback. "...Okay then. This is good... Let's talk in private somewhere else..."

Granger's eyes turned to angry slits as she roared, "SO WHAT? SO YOU CAN ATTEMPT TO **KILL** ME JUST LIKE WHAT YOU DID TO DUMBLEDORE?"

Draco, who has had it up to _here_, now shouted right back at her, "WOULD YOU SHUT UP ABOUT THAT CRACKPOT OLD FOOL ALREADY? I DIDN'T BLOODY KILL HIM, ALRIGHT?"

"YES, BUT YOU **TRIED** TO NONETHELESS!"

"THERE IS A **DIFFERENCE** BETWEEN ACTUALLY KILLING SOMEONE AND ATTE–"

"**_ENOUGH!_**"

Both outraged teens swivelled around only to face a very angry-looking woman, storming down the hall towards them. She was tall and regal with smooth, auburn hair pulled back into a simple chignon on the nape of her neck and wise, indigo eyes currently flashing in rage. No doubt, she was a woman of importance in this place.

Sure enough, as the woman strode angrily towards them, Draco could faintly make out the words, '_Miriam Henley, Dean of N.Y.M.P.H.S., Healer-in-Chief of Salem Witches' Medical'_ engraved in silver on her midnight-blue robes. Instantly, Draco dropped the arm holding his wand. Hermione quickly followed suit with a look of horror on her face as she realized what she had done.

"Follow me!" she barked at them, striding past both of them in annoyance. They went through numerous corridors and wooden staircases until they finally reached a burnished ivory door in a marble corridor lined with an assortment of Impressionist paintings. A silver plaque hung on the door displaying the same words Draco had seen on the woman's robes. They both trailed after her silently as the ivory door shut itself behind them. Draco noticed that Granger looked particularly embarrassed and out of sorts.

"Sit," the woman, Dean Henley, commanded, settling herself down on a high-backed chair behind the gleaming oak table. She was frowning upon both of them now, her anger slowly ebbing away only to be replaced by something short of disappointment and sheer curiosity. "Now, I want to know _exactly_ why two respectful N.E.W.T. graduates would duel each other like two silly five-year-olds!" Draco shuffled his feet as Granger hung her head pitifully. Dean Henley sighed, "I'm sure we can sort this out like adults if you would just give me a logical explanation for what happened back there."

Both he and Granger remained completely mute.

It was not as if their situation was exactly simple. How exactly would he be able to explain to this Dean woman that Granger had gone completely bonkers at the sight of him, because she had reasons to think that he was a murderer and a Death Eater? And how was he supposed to explain to her that that was exactly what he was here for? To kidnap Granger on Voldemort's orders?

Dean Henley, noting the lack of explanation from either of them, added almost regretfully, "Either you two tell me what happened, or I'm afraid I would have to resort to drastic measures." Granger immediately lifted up her head, looking as if she was on the brink of tears. Draco merely rolled his eyes. However, neither of them said a word. Dean Henley sighed again, "Very well then. I suppose I have no choice, even though it's only the first day of term." She frowned at both of them and continued, "I shall speak to Dean Wilkes and arrange a week's worth of suitable punishments for both of you. In the meantime, I advise you both to steer clear of trouble or that can easily be changed to TWO weeks. Understand?"

Draco could see Granger's jaw drop from the corner of his eyes. Yes, it was disgraceful and unfair that they should get punishments this early on in the year, but neither one was about to object. They were both smart enough not to make matters worse.

After nodding rather pitifully and getting excused from Dean Henley, Granger exited first, leaving him a couple of steps behind. Never in a million years would he have expected her to wait for him, leaning against the marble wall with her arms crossed before her.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" Draco sneered viciously, keeping up his cold veneer. However, he was still awfully curious as to what she was doing there, waiting for him.

When he approached, she looked up and stared right into his eyes, "Look, Malfoy, I don't know why you're here or what you're here _for. _And unfortunately, I can't hold any false accusations against you since nobody's drop dead yet. But if I'll ever have _any_ suspicions whatsoever that you're behind something then I'll hex you to the North Pole if I have to."

Draco wasn't surprised by her words. He fully expected that from someone like Granger.

She paused then flinched here as if not sure whether or not she should be saying the next part, "...In the meantime, let's call a truce." At this turn of events, Draco's near-colorless eyebrows shot straight up and disappeared into his hair. Hermione continued, "I mean, we can't let anything like this happen again... It'll be better if we just stay out of each other's way. So... truce?" After a moment's hesitation, she extended a hand out to him.

Draco was beyond shocked. What the hell was Granger playing at? One minute she was yelling at him, blaming everything on him, and the next she was calling a bloody _truce_? Extending a _hand_ out even! Could there be anything else wrong with this bloody picture?

Yet however wary or skeptical Draco was, he shook Granger's hand anyway, agreeing to her little arrangement. He'd make this truce work in his favor. After all, _she_ was the reason he was here in the first place.

**A/N**: Okay, how much did you love that little dispute between Draco and Hermione? xD If you think that I slightly overdid it, please understand the emotions Hermione must have gone through when she saw Malfoy. Just think about it for a minute; all that history between the Golden Trio and him, his infamous connections to the Dark Lord, and the fact that he _tried_ to kill Dumbledore (GASP GASP). To tell you the truth, it was really fun for me to write that! I know that's horrible of me! You're all probably wondering if I'm a true D/Hr shipper or not, but TRUST ME, there will be a lot more fluffy, lovey-dovey stuff in the future! (As well as a truck-load of angst-y stuff, but there's still a long way to go until that!) But for now, it's just fun to make them bite each other's head off! Oh, and I added the truce in there for good measure. It just seems like what Hermione, the peacemaker and S.P.E.W. activist, would come up with after letting herself lose control like that. And as for Draco knowing about the Dalai Lama, let's just agree for comic relief's sake that he _does_ know about the Dalai Lama. ;D


	5. Chapter Four: Double Trouble

**DISCLAIMER: **J.K. Rowling owns everything (except for maybe Isabel, Dean Henley, and N.Y.M.P.H.S.). Oh, and the reviews I getfromthis chapter (HINT HINT HINT).

**Chapter Four: Double Trouble**

_I'm a nightmare, a disaster_

_That's what they always say_

_I'm a lost cause, not a hero_

_But I'll make it on my own_

_I've gotta prove them wrong_

_Me against the world_

_It's me against the world_

– **Simple Plan "Me Against The World"**

Hermione let out a breath of relief as soon as she saw her name on the bronze plaque nailed to the door. Strangely, she didn't bother to turn the doorknob or even knock against the polished wood. There were more pressing matters in her mind. Instead, Hermione strode up to the wall beside the door and banged her head roughly against it.

How. Did. This. Happen?

First off, why in the _world_ would Malfoy be in America, studying to become a qualified _healer_? This did not make sense at all; Malfoy wasn't supposed to be gallivanting around in New York City! He was supposed to be under house arrest back at Malfoy Manor! He was supposed to be kissing the ground Voldemort walks on! BACK IN BRITAIN!

Secondly, why, oh why, did she suggest that ridiculous truce? Did she seriously think that that evil ferret would heed her white flag and leave her alone? Knowing Malfoy, he was probably back in his room right now, thinking up ways to embarrass her and make her stay here a living hell! At this, the color drained from her face because this time she would be all alone, vulnerable to his verbal abuse without Harry and Ron by her side...

At the thought of Harry and Ron, she stopped banging her head and felt all choked up as if she was about to cry. Even though Harry had been quite supportive of her decision, it was Ron who hadn't been too happy. The morning after she told everyone, Ron had pulled her aside, asking her what the hell she was thinking by leaving. _"How can you leave when you know Harry needs us now more than ever?"_ he had raged, looking positively livid. Unfortunately, Harry had walked in on them and heard everything. Now, to top it all off, Harry was mad at Ron for trying to guilt her into staying for him, and Ron was angry at Harry for simply being "a bloody idiot" as he so eloquently put it.

And it was all her fault.

"I thought I heard knocking out here!"

Hermione snapped her head back just as the door to Room 88E flung open. A petite, Asian girl was standing in the doorway, looking expectantly at her. "Hi, I'm Isabel! You must be Hermione! It's so nice to meet you!" Still a bit shocked at the unexpected interruption, Hermione simply shook the girl's hand dazedly. On closer inspection, she noticed that the girl uncannily resembled Cho Chang– the same long, straight hair and that pretty face that drove men wild.

"It's nice to meet you, too," Hermione responded politely, stepping nervously into the room. To her delight, it was all so charmingly decorated. Two beds were perched side by side on her right, made up neatly by scarlet sheets and white satin pillows. The walls were painted a lovely shade of burgundy and there was a nice, black border that ran along the top and bottom. On the opposite side of the beds stood two ebony study tables, one for each occupant, as well as two ebony wardrobes. But the best part of the whole room was the cozy bay window overlooking a fantastic view of New York City.

"It's so beautiful..." Hermione breathed out, running a hand across the smooth surface of one of the study tables.

Isabel nodded along and jumped on one of the beds, "I know! Isn't it great?" Hermione moved along to the bay window and watched the crazy traffic happening right below her. Isabel was still talking, "I got here ages ago! I was wondering when you would show up. Oh, and I hope you don't mind if I take this bed." She patted the bed that she was perched on and Hermione realized it was the one closest to the door.

"That's fine," Hermione agreed, smiling already. She was already planning the nights where she would just curl up next to the bay window, gazing out at the New York City skyline.

"Great!" Isabel hopped off the bed. "I need to use the bathroom, like, at least five times during the night, so this way it's a lot easier for me." At Hermione's puzzled look, she added, "The bathrooms are at the end of the hallway. I checked and there's only about six shower stalls, eight toilets, and eight sinks in there. There's, like, twenty of us on this floor, so we'll all have to share." Isabel frowned, studying Hermione closely, "You okay? You're looking kind of faint..."

Hermione simply stared in response. "There's TWENTY of us on this floor?" She was thoroughly shocked; twenty students was equivalent to a double class at Hogwarts!

"Yup," Isabel answered, giggling slightly at the look on her new roommate's face. "Don't worry about it. That was my initial reaction, too. Think of it as a race with all the other people on our floor. Whoever gets there first, wins. Whoever gets there LAST...well, that's their problem." Her eyes twinkled with mischief at this and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. She reminded her so much of Ginny...

Maybe her stay here won't be so bad after all.

00000

And maybe Hermione may have spoken too soon.

As she made for the Dining Hall after the welcome assembly, Dean Henley caught up with her. Her stomach immediately sunk down to her toes. She had completely forgotten about her punishment.

"Miss Granger, a word." Hermione told Isabel to go on ahead without her. She followed the older woman back into the now-empty Assembly Hall where she could make out Malfoy's fine-colored hair standing out like a beacon in the semi-darkness. Hermione automatically scowled as she approached him. Just because they made a truce didn't mean she had to be nice to him. '_Why do I have to lose my temper when I'm around that ferret?_' she thought bitterly, escaping a small sigh.

"Granger," he drawled out in welcome, arms crossed in front of him.

"Malfoy," Hermione spat, also crossing her arms and tapping her foot.

Dean Henley looked at them in silence for a moment then shook her head, "Well, this is certainly more of a progress. At least now you two aren't yelling yourselves hoarse..."

"Please, Professor, just tell us what we need to do. The sooner you tell us, the sooner I won't have to _breathe_ the same air as Malfoy," Hermione cut in snidely, glaring daggers at the blond boy. Draco merely smirked.

"Very well, then. I have spoken to Dean Wilkes, and both of us have decided on double punishments for you two. We think doing your punishments _together _will do you both good since_ both _of you brought this upon yourselves."

"NO!"

"You don't understand, Professor! We _can't_–"

Dean Henley cocked an eyebrow but shook her head all the same. "I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger, but this is the only way. Who knows? Maybe you two will behave civilly to each other by the end of this." At both teenagers' disbelieving stares, she continued briskly, "You can both proceed to the Dining Hall now. You will receive notes tonight, detailing your first punishment. It will take place first thing tomorrow morning. Is that clear?"

Hermione was too shocked to say a word. She opted for nodding instead. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Malfoy jerk his head slightly as if it pained him to nod in assent. She rolled her eyes. Same old Malfoy.

After bidding goodnight to Dean Henley and ignoring Malfoy, Hermione made her way towards the Dining Hall, fuming all the way. She had been forced to forge a truth with Malfoy, so they would stay out of each other's way for nothing! Now that they were both going to do _detentions_ together, it would be nearly impossible for them to avoid each other.

Scowling, she entered the Dining Hall, fully prepared to track down Isabel and wolf down her dinner, when she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight that beheld her. A tiny breath of awe escaped her lips. The Dining Hall was _humongous_. The Great Hall back at Hogwarts was _nothing_ compared to this! Spectacular, floor-length windows ran along all three sides, showing a lovely view of rolling hills and the twinkling stars. (Hermione suspected that it was bewitched to show the countryside instead of the less-than-scenic view of Manhattan traffic.) The ceiling was high and covered with ancient Roman moldings, adding to the classical touch of the room. The atmosphere was brightly lit with what looked like hovering flames trapped in floating golden bubbles.

In short, it was literally breath-taking.

"There you are!" Hermione felt herself being dragged to the side by a very curious Isabel. "What happened? What did that dean lady want to talk to you about?"

She tore her eyes from the mounds of food arranged on one of the long tables and shrugged at Isabel, "Nothing. She needed to talk to us about our detention arrangements." Isabel's brown eyes grew as big as dinner platters.

"WHAT? You got detention on the FIRST DAY?" she shrieked, looking at Hermione with a mixture of disbelief and admiration. "That is NOT nothing! And who's 'us'?"

"Well, it's quite a long story," Hermione said apologetically, avoiding her roommate's accusing stare. When she saw that Isabel wasn't about to drop the subject, she sighed and gave in. "I got into a... fight earlier in the West Wing before I came to our room. It was really stupid and probably not worth it, but Dean Henley gave us both a week of punishments, anyway. She was just telling us the arrangements for the first one."

Isabel nodded slowly, registering her words, but her eyes were still narrowed in suspicion. "Uh huh, right. But you still failed to mention who you fought _with_." At that precise moment, Malfoy decided to strut into the Dining Hall, not even pausing to admire the beauty of the room. Hermione couldn't help but snort. Typical, spoiled, pure-blooded Malfoy.

Isabel looked at Hermione questioningly, but she turned around and followed her death glare straight to...

"Him?"

Hermione snapped back to attention, "Huh?"

"You know him?" Isabel was still looking at Draco with...was that _lust_ in her eyes?

Hermione brushed the thought away. "Yea, we went to school together. He's such a prat."

Isabel wiggled her eyebrows suggestively at Hermione, "A HOT prat, whatever prat means. Me like!" Hermione looked disgusted and practically had to drag Isabel away from pouncing on Malfoy. "I suppose it won't be so bad if you're stuck with him for a couple of hours," she said dreamily, still trying to get a glimpse of the blond-haired hunk.

"He's absolutely terrible!" Hermione persisted, steering both of them towards a table laden with food. She continued when Isabel opened her mouth in protest, "And I don't want to talk about him." Her roommate rolled her eyes in consent and started busying herself by piling food onto her plate.

Hermione sighed in what felt like the thousandth time that night. Tomorrow was going to be a LONG day.

00000

Draco plopped back onto his bed fully-clothed, not even bothering to take off his shoes first. His gray eyes were tired and dull; not to mention droopy and heavy from fatigue. He felt like he hadn't slept in days. And the whole detention-with-Granger arrangement was the icing on his hellish cake of a life.

Groaning, Draco got up and crossed over to his half-unpacked trunk. Normally, he would have left the unpacking until tomorrow, but since he would have to spend his morning with that stupid Mudblood, he might as well get it over with tonight. Draco pulled out a bunch of identical black robes at the bottom of his trunk and threw it into his open wardrobe. When he reached back in for a second pile, his hand brushed against something blazing-hot.

"ARGH! Bloody hell!" Draco yelped, withdrawing his right hand quickly. _What the hell was that?_ His light-colored brows furrowed in confusion as he removed a pair of silk boxers out of the way. There, sitting in plain view, was a glowing, red snow globe.

Draco had totally forgotten about it.

Cursing fluently under his breath, he hurriedly wrapped a stray robe around his hand and reached out for the glowing sphere. As soon as Draco had the object safely in his covered hand, it instantly glowed green and a cool sensation spread through his fingertips. It glowed green for a couple of more seconds before turning completely clear, displaying a miniature version of Severus Snape's head in lucid view.

"Draco!" Mini-Snape barked, his hair looking greasier than usual. "Where the hell have you been!"

"Sir," Draco merely replied cooly, setting the snow globe onto his dresser and slowly disentangling the material from his hand. He had never gotten used to calling Snape by his given name even though Snape had allowed him to. To Draco, Severus Snape would always be his Potions teacher back at Hogwarts, no matter how many times Snape saved his arse.

"I have been trying to contact you for HOURS!" Snape growled dangerously. Draco merely watched lazily as an angry vein throbbed in Snape's sallow forehead.

Draco simply looked amused. "Ah, that would explain how it got so hot."

Snape narrowed his black eyes at him then hissed in a low voice, "Listen, Draco. Do not take this lightly. You MUST be there to answer me when I contact you. It is most crucial that you do."

"I know," Draco said, annoyed. "I just got back from dinner with the other students. Surely, you can understand the predicament I am in, sir. What would people say if I carry around a snow globe in my pocket?"

Snape looked even angrier by his sarcasm since his voice now held a furious tone, "You are not there on a vacation, Draco! Don't you understand? You cannot afford to screw this up! I will not be there to save your sorry arse this time!" Draco's slate-colored eyes hardened as he gazed at Snape's miniature head. Snape had no doubt struck a nerve in the boy.

Snarling, Draco took a step forward, his stormy eyes ignited in rage, "I don't NEED you to be here! I've got this under control! I am perfectly capable of carrying out an order without ANYBODY'S help!"

"Draco, you have no idea what you're doing! You're only eighteen–"

But his words were cut by Draco's low, threatening growl. "You'll see, _Snape_! Once I present Hermione Granger to the Dark Lord, _you'll see_!"

Snape didn't say a word after Draco's outburst; just regarded him quietly with something like pity in his black eyes. Still with that same look in his eyes, he said softly, "Very well, Draco. I only wanted to see how you were doing, on your mother's request, and to inform you of her well-being. I thought you deserved to know that she's been a wreck since you've been gone." And with that, Snape's head disappeared and the orb automatically glowed blue, leaving Draco seething and lonelier than ever.

**A/N**: Alright, I know that this chapter is completely BORING, but it's just a filler for the next chapter where the fun REALLY begins (hehe). But I just needed to make a couple of key points in here which are: Hermione and Draco would be doing detentions together and that Draco has a means of communicating with Snape. Oh, and even though I know the chapter is totally crappy, PLEASE READ AND REVIEW ANYWAY! ;D


	6. Chapter Five: Lost in You

**Chapter Five: Lost in You**

_In your eyes_

_The light, the heat_

_In your eyes_

_I am complete_

_In your eyes_

_I see the doorway_

_In your eyes_

_To a thousand churches_

_In your eyes_

_The resolution of all the fruitless searches_

_In your eyes_

_Oh, I see the light and the heat_

_In your eyes_

_Oh, I wanna be that complete_

_I wanna touch the light, the heat I see in your eyes_

– **Peter Gabriel "In Your Eyes"**

The next morning dawned bright and early as Hermione and Isabel slumbered peacefully. Faint rays of sunlight were streaming through the single bay window and the muffled sounds of cars blaring and buses rumbling played in the background; a unique contrast to the heavy silence that filled the room. It was a beautiful Sunday morning, full of wonderful opportunities for everyone. That is, everyone besides Hermione Granger.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned, her sleepy voice piercing through the tranquility of the room. Crankily, she flipped over and buried her face into the soft pillows, trying to get some more sleep. She had been up until three in the morning due to pure apprehension.

"Damn sun," Isabel muttered darkly, stirring on the next bed as well. She lifted the covers up and over her head, her black hair fanned out across the satin pillows. The room fell once more into sleepy silence until Hermione's voice, thick with sleep, drifted across to Isabel.

"What time is it?" she mumbled drowsily, rubbing her eyes and yawning at the same time. Her roommate didn't bother replying. Isabel opted for simply snatching the alarm clock beside her bed and tossing it to Hermione with her head still submerged under the covers. The clock bounced harmlessly onto Hermione's pillow as she sat up and stretched luxuriously. Grabbing the alarm clock clumsily, she peered down at the glowing, red numbers:

'_6:41 A.M.'_

Her heavy-lidded eyes immediately looked as if they were ready to pop out of her head.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione cursed loudly, leaping out of bed and racing to the door hurriedly. Her detention with Malfoy was supposed to start in less than twenty minutes! She tore down the hallway, her slippered feet pitter-pattering against the wooden floor. '_Thank Merlin it's still insanely early for anybody to be using the bathrooms,' _she thought furiously to herself, flinging open the girls' bathroom door and quickly checking if any of the showers were occupied. As soon as she realized they weren't, Hermione quickly stripped down and took what could possibly be described as the fastest shower known in history.

'_6:47 A.M.'_

Charming her hair dry and hastily putting on a bit of moisturizer and lip balm, Hermione raced back down the hall in her bathrobe, barging into her room and heading straight to her wardrobe. Isabel grumbled vaguely at the disturbance but thankfully went back to sleep as Hermione snatched the first things her hands touched. Shrugging at her random selection, she threw on the pair of dark, low-rise jeans and the casual pink tank-top, before glancing at the clock in dismay.

'_6:58 A.M.'_

Hermione literally felt her heart skip a beat as she yanked on her trainers and dashed off towards the Grand Foyer. Even by hurtling down stairs and sprinting through corridors, Hermione knew that she was still not going to make it on time. Sure enough, by the time she reached the curved marble staircase that led down to the Grand Foyer, she immediately spotted Dean Henley's auburn-colored chignon and Malfoy's platinum-blond locks waiting downstairs for her.

They both looked up as she raced down the stairs, panting with exhaustion. Dean Henley frowned a bit and glanced down at her pocket watch.

"You're late, Miss Granger," she pointed out to a wheezing Hermione, the frown still fixed upon her face. "Please don't let it happen again." Hermione's cheeks burned in shame as she mumbled an apology. She was _never_ late back at Hogwarts. Hermione Granger simply did not tolerate lateness. But here she was now, almost five minutes late to her first detention in a new school.

Dean Henley merely nodded at her apology and beckoned them to follow her. Hermione didn't bother looking at Malfoy's reaction. She would bet a million Galleons that he would probably glance derisively at her. With that in mind, Hermione tilted her nose up in the air and followed after Dean Henley's retreating figure, totally ignoring the tall blond behind her.

00000

'_What in the world is Granger wearing?'_ Draco wondered to himself in awe, his slate-colored eyes completely fixed upon the petite figure in front of him. Hermione was about to lose a million Galleons since the only thing currently running through Draco's head was why Granger would appear for her detention half-dressed. A small part of him was slightly awed. He didn't think Good-girl Granger would ever ditch her oversized robes for some inappropriate attire. But here she was now, wearing a flimsy garment that barely covered her back! And yet a bigger part of him, the I'm-a-pureblooded-Malfoy part, was thoroughly disgusted by an indecent Mudblood. Or at least he was forcing himself to think that way.

But even though it was scandalous and sleazy behavior, Draco found himself unable to look away.

"Here we are," Dean Henley announced suddenly, breaking into Draco's thoughts. He tore his eyes away from the curly-haired Mudblood before him and took a quick look around at where they were. He had to blink several times to get his bearings. They were standing in a narrow hallway painted completely white from top to bottom. The white, tiled floors seemed to gleam eerily under the fluorescent lighting . A clean, white door stood directly to the left of them with a shiny, gold plaque that read 'Infirmary' in fancy script. Draco vaguely thought how pale and washed out he must look amongst all the white.

Dean Henley rapped against the door with her knuckles smartly before turning the silver doorknob. Draco wasn't surprised to find that the room was also decorated in blinding white. He was still adjusting to the brightness of the room when a curvy, blonde witch bustled over to them, a dimpled smile plastered on her face.

"Miriam! What a surprise! I rarely see you around here," the blonde witch greeted Dean Henley, ushering them inside. She noticed the two fidgety teens and a look of polite curiosity appeared on her round face before glancing back at the elderly dean. "What can I do for you today?"

Dean Henley bid her hello and acknowledged himself and Granger, whose cheeks were still slightly flushed in shame, with a wave of her hand. Draco rolled his eyes. Granger was being such a Gryffindor Goody-goody about all this. One would think she was accustomed to embarrassment by now, hanging out with Pothead and his Weasel sidekick all the time.

"This is Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger. These two were wreaking havoc in the fifth floor corridor of the West Wing yesterday." At the nurse's shocked face, Dean Henley nodded solemnly and continued, "Yes, Joy. On the very first day of school." Granger's cheeks were turning a brilliant shade of magenta by now. "So, Peter and I thought that they should have their first detention here, in the infirmary since there are usually so many errands to do around here." At Nurse Joy's confused look, Dean Henley pressed on, "Surely, you received my note last night?"

Nurse Joy looked thoughtful for a minute before slowly shaking her head, "No, I'm sorry, Miriam. I was a bit preoccupied last night,so I must have missed it." At Dean Henley's slight frown, she added quickly, "Although, this is not a problem. You _are_ right. I'm sure I can find something for them to do today." Then she gave a small, sympathetic smile at Granger who was still blushing something fierce.

Dean Henley looked pleased with this arrangement and promptly left them to Nurse Joy's care. "I have to be going now, Joy. It's a Sunday and I must supervise the Portkey transportation into the Magical Underground District." To Draco and Granger, she said sternly, "I will be back at eleven-thirty. Please be on your best behaviors with Nurse Joy." And with a swish of her indigo robes, she was gone.

When Draco turned back around, he noticed that Nurse Joy was puttering around her corner desk, briskly going through a huge, leather-bound journal of some sort. She abruptly stopped somewhere in the middle of the book and traced a finger down the length of the page. A triumphant grin appeared on her face as she read something before swiftly snapping the book shut.

Nurse Joy turned to look at them both, her blonde hair rustling against her robes gently as she moved. "Well, you're in luck, guys!" she announced happily, crossing the infirmary and heading for a door in the far back. "It seems I've done most of the horribly tedious tasks before term started, so you won't get such a heavy load today. After all, what Miriam don't know won't hurt her," she confided to Draco with a wink as they approached the back door. Draco nodded, a bit astounded that this tiny nurse would ever think to defy such a stern, commanding woman like Dean Henley but also relieved to find that they were going to be able to take it easy.

He was just starting to feel relaxed after what Nurse Joy had said and was not the least bit worried as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. However, his jaw dropped the second he caught a glimpse of the room beyond; he should really learn not to jump into conclusions.

Inside was a small closet barely big enough to be called a room. A sturdy, wooden table and two spindly chairs were squeezed inside, taking up a big portion of the closet leaving a strip of space around the table for moving around. There, lying innocently on the table, was a humongous pile of what looked like dirty syringes, some even stained with a bit of blood. Clean, cloth rags were piled up neatly in a corner of the closet as well as brilliant blue bottles of Merlin-knows-what. Draco's stomach churned dangerously. He had always been a bit queasy when it comes to needles.

Nurse Joy was currently explaining their task to them, a bit of color draining from his already-pale face after each sentence, "You are to clean the syringes with the rags and that blue bottle over there. Each clean syringe will be placed inside this white basket–" She conjured up a big, white, wicker basket and handed it to Granger. "And I will call for you once your time is up." Granger opened her mouth to say something, but Nurse Joy kindly held up a finger for her to wait until she was done speaking. "I doubt you would be able to finish this pile today, so take your time to clean each one thoroughly." Sure enough, Granger's mouth snapped shut.

She ushered himself and Granger inside, gave each a rag and a bottle, and gently pocketed their wands. Nurse Joy smiled at them sympathetically as she shut the door behind her. Both of them could hear the click of the lock put into place as they stared blankly at the door.

"This is bloody great," Draco mumbled under his breath, effectively breaking the silence in the tiny room. "I'm stuck in a closet with a Mudblood, getting ready to sterilize big, giant needles. Why, I'm just jumping for joy!" Granger glared daggers at him and his attempt at sarcasm as she reached for her rag and began plucking off one syringe from the pile. Draco pouted. He had expected to get at least a good rise from her.

They both lapsed into silence once they both got down to work; him out of boredom and Granger out of sheer anger. He could just tell from looking at her out of the corner of his eye that she was struggling to control her temper around him. Her face was still bright red but this time it was from rage instead of shame. Smirking, Draco decided he was going to have a little fun with Granger. It couldn't hurt to mix business with pleasure.

Little did Draco know how bad, oh so very bad, mixing business with pleasure would turn out.

Innocently squirting some blue liquid into his rag, Draco drawled in his slow, bored voice, "Soooo, Granger. Heard about you and Pothead. Finally came to your senses, did you? Ditched dirt-poor Carrot Top for slightly richer, more famous Potty?" He smirked as Granger's hand began to tremble slightly as she rubbed a needle with more force than was required. "Yes. Read it all in the Daily Prophet, you know. You and Pothead's relationship is a wizarding sensation! Quite slutty of you, though, if you ask me, dumping Carrot Top for his own best friend! But nooooo! Nobody cared for poor Weasel, the freckled wonder. I didn't think you had it in you, Granger. Brava."

The expression on Granger's face was priceless. The hand holding the rag was shaking so badly by now, she was in danger of getting pricked by the needle each time she attempted to go near it. Draco whooped inwardly in glee at the rise he'd gotten out of her and simply sat there, gloating, like a Malfoy should. This was more like it.

Draco left Granger alone for quite some time, focusing solely on his work. But once the wicker basket was halfway full and the pile was slowly shrinking, he started again in his slow, bored manner as if they had been talking just a second ago, "I mean, I wouldn't put it past you. With the way you've been dressing, it's a wonder how you became Gryffindor's goody-two-shoe. Merlin knows what you wear in that tacky common room of yours." At this, Granger raised her head and stared at him, exasperated. Her hand had promptly stopped shaking once he had stopped his little game, leaving her to do her work unharmed. But Draco knew he was going to _really_ start annoying the hell out of her now.

"What are you talking about, Malfoy?" she asked him, her voice visibly tired. Draco only smirked wider.

"I'm saying you should really cover yourself, Granger. Nobody wants to look at an exposed Mudblood. It's really quite disgusting," he sneered. "Or maybe you're just too poor to purchase some robes? Taking a leaf out of Weasley's book now?" With that stroke of genius at the end of his remark, Draco had totally expected a great, big dramatic outburst from her after what he had said. Which was why he was rather disappointed and very much confused when all Granger did was laugh helplessly.

"Malfoy," she choked out, tears of laughter in her brown eyes. "Malfoy, I _am_ wearing clothes. These are _Muggle_ clothes!" Draco was disgusted at this. Muggle clothes? What the hell was Granger doing wearing Muggle clothes here? And such an inappropriate one at that! For Merlin's sake, the top she was wearing was better suited for Pansy!

Draco scoffed, trying to save the scrap of dignity he had left, as Granger kept on laughing hysterically. "You're not supposed to wear Muggle clothes here, Granger," he snapped nastily, glaring at her. "Get with the program, _tart_." Granger was looking at him now, astounded, the laughter gone from her eyes. At the word 'tart' she had snapped to as if he had slapped her.

She leaned close to the table, her hand shaking dangerously again, "Listen, _ferret_." At the old insult, Malfoy's lips curled in a menacing way. "I _am_ allowed to wear Muggle clothes here. It says so in the orientation letter. So I suggest you actually _read_ next time, or are you too snobby and rich to do a simple thing like that too?" Her eyes flashed in suppressed rage as she leaned back onto her chair, clearly indicating that their little conversation was over.

Oh, but she had done it now. He, who had started this little spat, was getting just as angry as her, if not more. She was obviously trying to insult that whole pureblooded-Malfoy thing. In earlier times, he wouldn't have considered that an insult and would have been proud to be associated that way; to be thought of as a completely snobby, rich prat. But now, after everything that has happened with his father, his mother, their mild bankruptcy, his _failures_; it _did_ feel like an insult. The way Granger intended it to. And what was more was that Granger didn't know that her remark had hit him hard, _very_ hard, indeed.

Draco was so angry that he lashed out at her without thinking, and he knew, as soon as he said the words, that he had completely crossed the line even for him.

"You must be wearing a lot of Muggle clothes in front of Potter then, Granger. That's the only reason why he would leave Weaselette for a mudblood like _you_."

Three things happened after he said this:

First, Granger gasped so loudly– her mouth wide open– as she just sat there, staring at him with no expressions whatsoever on her face. If Draco could describe it, he wouldn't have even described it as staring 'at' him but more like staring 'through' him. She didn't even seem angry by it; just a mixture of shock, disbelief, and something else that Draco couldn't quite place.

The next thing was that the cloth Granger was holding, which had been clutched loosely in her hand, fell to the floor. Draco watched, as if in slow motion, as Granger's delicate fingers grew limp, letting the cloth loose. He stared– still in that same, lagging way– as the white, linen cloth fluttered to the floor like a small, white parachute tumbling through the air.

The last thing, and at this he had felt a pang of regret somewhere deep inside him, was that Granger's _other_ hand– the one tightly holding a syringe– began shaking violently. It was shaking so hard that he was sure that the blood flowing into that hand was now bubbling merrily in her veins. And it was _so _dangerously _close_ to her other hand, still frozen there even though the cloth had fell.

Draco saw it coming. He saw it coming a mile away. Hell, he even tried to warn her. He almost apologized for what he'd said, if only to prevent what would happen. But it was too late. Granger, still sitting there staring at him, cut her own wrist without realizing it.

At first nothing happened. He just sat there, watching as the needle cut through her skin so seamlessly... so smoothly... so _easily_. He watched in horror as a bright, red line appeared on her slim wrist, almost two inches long. He watched as pearly beads of blood appeared along the line, slowly pooling together to form one thick, red river. It was the most excruciating and strangest thing he had ever seen, but Draco found himself unable to look away for the second time that day.

Granger, however, took a second longer to register what she had just done. For a while, she just sat there blankly, still staring at him with her hand still shaking. Then, finally– ever so slowly– she seemed to have snapped out of it. She quickly glanced down at her right wrist, already dripping with blood. Then her honey-colored eyes shifted to the needle– the murderous weapon– still in her hand and, quick as a flash, Granger dropped it in horror as if it burned her skin just to touch it. When the needle clattered against the tiled floor, a grimace of pain flitted across her face. Her face was starting to drain of color. Fast.

The odd sound of the needle against the floor also snapped him out of it. Suddenly, when everything had been going so slow, it was as if someone had pressed the fast-forward button and Draco found himself literally leaping towards Granger. Without thinking, he pressed his clean cloth against the wound, applying pressure to her throbbing wrist. Granger was staring at him again, except this time through a haze as she swooned slightly in her chair. It was worse than he thought. He wouldn't have been surprised if she'd cut a vein in the process. And she'd lost an awful lot of blood, as proven by the small, red pool gathering on the floor directly underneath her hanging wrist. Which was why Draco wasn't even thinking straight as he drew out his wand from the secret pocket in his robes.

He'd been into enough trouble at Hogwarts to know that wands were immediately taken away at the beginning of detentions. Which was why in his fifth year, he had smuggled one of the Weasley twins' fake wands that they were selling and passed it off as his own real wand during detentions. He kept his real wand concealed in his robes, hidden from prying eyes. Usually, once he was left alone to do whatever punishment he had to do, Draco would lazily accomplish everything by magic in a second and was free to spend the rest of his detention doing nothing. Sometimes, he would even sneak out after he finished whatever punishment was in store for him and have a bit of fun with Pansy in a nearby classroom.

He had been doing it for so long, though, that he didn't even think twice to give Nurse Joy his fake wand. Of course, he wasn't about to use magic with Granger around, watching him like a hawk, but it was like second nature to automatically switch his wands and hand over the fake one. It was always handy to keep around, especially when something like this happens.

Granger gasped when she saw him unsheathing his wand from his pocket. "Wh– You're not supposed to have that with you!" she exclaimed softly, finding her voice. But she didn't move or say anything as he ignored her and unwrapped the makeshift bandage on her wrist, revealing the ugly gash with its puffy, red border. He was just about to point his wand at the cut and utter the spell when Granger seemed to realize what he was going to do and jerked her wrist away from him. Fear was starting to show in her eyes.

"Don't be daft, Granger!" Draco snapped, annoyed, trying to grab hold of her wounded wrist. "Give it here!"

But the girl was awfully stubborn even on the verge of death as she pinned her wrist behind her against the chair, away from him. "N-No!" she stammered, glancing at the door then back at him. "Y-You might try something! I'm not stupid, Malfoy!"

Draco simply rolled his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and said calmly, "Look at me, Granger. Come on, look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me what you see." He was trying to prove to her that he had no intention of hurting her. He was genuinely trying to help. In his mind, he convinced himself that he was only doing it for the good of the mission. What good would a dead Mudblood do anyway? Voldemort would shred him to pieces if he messed this up. He must keep her alive _then _do whatever he needed to do. Yes, a dead Granger would mean a dead Draco as well.

She hesitated at first but locked eyes with him nonetheless, connecting brown with gray. When he looked into her eyes, Draco almost stumbled back in surprise. Her eyes seemed to suck him in. He felt as if he was literally swimming in a pool of warm chocolate like that fat kid in that Muggle movie about the chocolate factory. He never knew there were so many layers of brown. Draco felt utterly lost as he sunk deeper into the warm abyss; not caring about the here and now, leaving behind this mess he's gotten himself into with Voldemort; forgetting all his past failures; erasing away the pain he'd brought upon his mother... And as he sunk deeper and deeper, something dormant inside him flared alive, warming up his frigid-cold insides.

But then he remembered that he _was_ actually living in the here and now, and that he _wasn't_ swimming in a pool of melted chocolate. He remembered that he was supposed to be_ healing_ Granger instead of being lost in her eyes. And just like that, he wrenched his eyes away from hers, pointed his wand, and muttered the spell.

And instantly, the wound glowed before his eyes, disappearing without a trace. It was like the past ten minutes had never happened as Draco kept his gray eyes focused on the stretch of smooth, unperturbed skin on Granger's wrist where moments ago it had been swollen red and bleeding. He lightly grazed the tips of fingers over it, remembering the gash there; how it could be so easily erased with a simple spell. And quite suddenly, he wondered if he was having some weird, twisted daydream, and Granger had never gotten hurt at all, and he was making a complete fool of himself by kneeling next to her, gently stroking her smooth wrist.

Then he looked up into her eyes and knew right away that it had all happened; that he was living in reality after all.

Granger licked her dry lips and opened her mouth as if she was about to say something to him when the door suddenly burst open and Nurse Joy stood there, framed against the bright light outside. She looked at the scene in front of her– Hermione seated rigidly while Draco kneeled next to her, holding her hand– then blushed, and averted her eyes quickly as she fixed her gaze on a point just above Draco's head.

"I hope I didn't interrupt anything!" Nurse Joy said nervously, finally looking at them both after a few minutes of awkward silence. "It's just that your time is up! You may leave now." And just like that, all that happened in that short stretch of time, did feel like a dream. And as Granger yanked her wrist away from his hands and rushed off without another glance, not even bothering to thank him, Draco wished desperately that it was.

**A/N**: I'm so sorry for the delay! I had a bit of that darn writer's block people talk about so much. Anyway, I hope that everyone enjoyed reading it. Although at the rate the reviews have been coming in, I'm starting to get thoroughly depressed (T.T). What happened to all my wonderful reviewers out there? I miss you guys! On the other hand, to anyone who is still following the story, I'm still going to continue posting the chapters even though I'm now officially in school and have been bombarded day and night with work (!). So please, bare with me if I don't update for a while.

Of course, reviews are always a nice perk after all the typing I do (hint hint hint). So, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read and review! I beg of you!


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